Nameless (8 page)

Gryphon purposefully let Ajax turn him to expose his weak side. Ajax lunged for the back of Gryphon’s legs. A favorite attack that Gryphon anticipated. Gryphon smacked the other man’s backside with the flat of his sword. Ajax fell forward. Gryphon jumped on his back, grabbed a fistful of hair, and held his blade to his friend’s neck.

“Damn it, Gryphon!” he growled. Gryphon laughed and hopped off his friend’s back. Ajax didn’t technically call “yield” but he never did. He just got really, really angry.

Zander was the one to keep protocol. “Gryphon takes Ajax … again.” Even Zander had the good humor to smile. Ajax had rarely lost a spar until Gryphon came along.

“What’s the tally up to now, twenty-three to nothing?” Ajax spat blood from his mouth.

“Does it matter?” It was twenty-four.

“Of course it matters. I think I dropped my manhood back there.”

Gryphon cleaned the grit off his sword. “It’s your pride you should worry about.”

“You little goat tit!” Ajax took Gryphon in a headlock and whirled him around until they both collapsed on the ground laughing.

“How is your wife?” Gryphon asked once they’d caught their breath.

“Big.” Ajax laughed again. “She’s a strong woman. I’m sure she’ll do fine. The healer said it could be any day now.”

The sound of deep horns silenced them both. The low-sounding horn was not the typical summons, but instead a call to war. Gryphon scrambled for his gear and sprinted toward Zander with the other members of the mess. Every man huffed with adrenaline.

The horns sounded again before Zander could speak. “To the front gate.” He pulled his shield to his chest and assumed his role at the head of the mess.

The training fields inside the great wall were less than a mile from the front gate. Gryphon’s mess filled the town square with almost fifty others. Metal clinked against metal as the small army looked to their leader. Barnabas, the clan chief, stood on a platform next to a bloody animal carcass. Shouts of outrage rang out. Every man looked wild, like they wanted to kill something.

“Soldiers of the Ram!”

“Hah!” the men all cried.

“Today we’ve been threatened inside our own territory!” With his massive arms, Barnabas held the dead ram above his head. The animal’s horns had been sawed off, leaving only bloody holes in their place. The great-horned ram were considered sacred, their horns a symbol of the clan’s power.

Ajax gasped next to Gryphon.

Barnabas launched the carcass into the crowd of soldiers. Blood sprayed armor. “Find who did this! Bring me back his head!”

Runners shot like daggers out to a few different mess leaders, bringing orders and ration satchels.

“I’m afraid we’re in for a long night, men,” said Zander, shouldering one of the packs. “Let’s go hunting.”

Zo stared at the intimidating crowd of Ram soldiers from the steps of the Medica. She’d asked Commander Laden for a sign, but it wasn’t until she saw the dead ram with her own eyes that she dared believe it. The bottles worked. The Wolves knew she had survived. They knew about Tess. She didn’t have to fight the Ram alone. Others were ready to help. Ready to act on whatever information she sent them.

For the first time since she’d entered the Gate, Zo felt powerful. Like she might actually make a difference.

Thinking to take advantage of the commotion, she decided it was time to do something she’d lacked the nerve to do until now. She raced back into the Medica and snatched a used blanket from a laundry pile before bolting out the door again. She wove through the buildings of town until she came upon the first of many training fields. As she’d hoped, the chief’s announcement left the fields empty and the practice weapons hastily dropped in the field to be gathered later.

Zo looked around to make sure no one was watching then dropped her blanket onto the ground over a discarded short sword.

It might have been a foolish risk, but one Zo felt she needed to take.

Walking back to the square to reach the Medica, she noted that Ram soldiers hurried about with preparations to leave the Gate. The silver sounds of swords sliding into sheaths and boots tromping on the cobbles sent chills up Zo’s back. She hugged the blanket and weapon to her chest, realizing for the first time just how dangerous her little stunt had been.

She made it to the steps of the Medica and exhaled deeply.
Almost there.

The door flew open before she could reach the handle and a giant Ram collided into her. Blanket and sword flew from her hands as she landed hard on her backside.

Zo crawled over to pick up the blanket and cover the sword but she saw the boot of the Ram standing right next to the blanket, the hilt of the sword peeking out underneath.

“It’s not what you think.”

Gryphon adjusted the strap of the pack thrown over one shoulder. His brows knit together as he bent to pick up the blanket, careful to keep the sword hidden. Disappointment dripped from the corners of his lips as he frowned. “Healer?”

“It’s for Joshua. He’s been talking about training since the day I took him into my care. I thought to let him practice from bed until he’s able to move around without causing himself harm.”

Gryphon narrowed his eyes. “You know what would happen to you if someone found you carrying this?”

Zo nodded. “He isn’t improving like he should. I’m worried for him. I thought this would help raise his spirits.” Zo mumbled the explanation then looked down at her feet. In truth, she knew that much of the reason for his limited improvement was because of her. She liked Joshua, but was still having trouble opening up her heart enough in the blessing to heal him.

“Gryphon, it’s time.”

Zo looked over her shoulder to see a stout Ram waving Gryphon over to join a small group of about twenty soldiers.

Gryphon thrust the blanket and sword back into Zo’s unsuspecting arms. “Heal him, Nameless. Do whatever you must, just heal him.”

Zo nodded, numb and confused when Gryphon followed the other soldier and left her gripping the forbidden sword to her chest.

Minutes later, Joshua startled when she entered the room.

“Daydreaming again, Ginger?” said Zo as she struggled with an awkward pile of blankets.

The boy was still too pale. Sweat beaded above his upper lip and forehead—his body’s effort to fight the infection.

“I can’t believe I let you sneak up on me again.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “I swear, the Medica’s softening my brain. I’m getting weaker while the other guys my age are getting stronger.” He wrung his hands into the bed cloth. “It isn’t fair.”

Zo knew better than to correct him. It was the illness, not the Medica, that slowed his reflexes. The herbs she gave him for pain weren’t helping either.

“What’s with the blankets?” Joshua asked as Zo fumbled with the pile.

She lowered the bundle onto his bed. The weapon object dropped out, landing smartly on Joshua’s ankle.

“What the—where did you get this!” He held up the weighted short-sword with reverent fingers, his eyes wide with shock. His fingers settled naturally into the familiar leather grip.

“Be quiet. Are you trying to get me killed?” Zo hissed.

She covered the sword in blankets and went back to close the door. “I borrowed it from one of the training fields while the soldiers were rushing to the gate.” She scratched at the mud on her cheek.

“Zo, you can’t just go around carrying weapons. You’re a Nameless. If someone saw you with this they’d kill you before asking questions.”

She shrugged. “You’ve been driving me crazy with all your talk of training.” Zo bit down on her bottom lip as she watched him admire the stupid sword. A warm energy entered her chest, like hot liquid passing too slowly down her throat. It was almost painful.

Joshua reluctantly pulled his eyes from the blade. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

She ruffled his red hair and scooped up the blankets. “Thank me by getting better.”

He would. The uncomfortable, warm sensation in Zo’s chest confirmed it. The boy would live.

It had been two weeks since the Allies sent their sign. Two weeks and Zo hadn’t come close to finding any information that would help her people. Without the responsibility of Tess, she would have done a lot more than snoop around important buildings and mentally chart the movement at the gate.

Every time Zo formulated a new plan to get the information she was after, Tess’ innocent face came to the forefront of her thoughts. How could she take the risks necessary to help her people when it meant putting her little sister in danger?

After weeks of servitude, Zo still hadn’t seen half of the rooms in the Medica. She passed countless doors on her daily trip to the supply room. The brown plaster on the walls didn’t crack and flake so much in this wing of the building, evidence of the continuous add-ons the Medica received over the years.

The nicer rooms were usually reserved for injured Ram soldiers and leaders. No one trusted her to heal the high-ranking. As a result, Zo was assigned to work in the older wing of the building, where she attended mostly women and children.

“What are these?” The Ram supply clerk came around the table and snatched up the blankets Zo deposited.

“They’re blankets,” said Zo, her voice flat and hollow.

The clerk’s pockmarked face reddened. “I know what they are. What are they doing on my table?”

“They need to be washed,” she said.

The clerk hissed a string of curses as he added the load to a pile in the back of the supply room, grumbling about taking orders from an ugly Nameless.

Zo hurried away. After rounding the first bend in the corridor, she heard a muffled man’s voice drifting through the door of one of the newest rooms. Zo made sure the hall was empty before pressing her ear to the door.

“Zander and his men are a part of First Company, sir. Their search quadrant is the farthest away,” said a shaky voice.

“I want them here, now! It’s been five days!”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can’t lead our people south until I quell these little rebellions. I want whoever killed that ram! I want his head staked to my wall!” The voice held an air of command, like a man who wouldn’t be questioned. Zo pushed closer to the door, hoping to hear something, anything, that might help the cause.

“Have we found the Wolf pup who taunted Zander’s company a few weeks ago?” said the leader.

“No, sir.”

There was a loud crashing sound, like a chair thrown against a wall. “I can’t have Wolves roving these hills, Captain!”

Zo forgot how to move. Her thoughts turned immediately to Gabe. His promise to stay close. To help when she needed him. Was he really foolish enough to linger at the Ram’s doorstep?

Yes. Yes, he was. He’d enjoy the challenge, not to mention the bragging rights. The fool.

“We gave Zander the coordinates of the last spotting. His mess will find them. They are the best.”

“Yes, as long as that Striker doesn’t botch the job,” said the leader.

“Sir.” The shaky captain cleared his throat. “According to our numbers, Gryphon is the best—”

“Training figures do not impress me! I want results outside the wall.”

“Yes, sir.”

The sound of footsteps pulled Zo from her trance. She hurried down the hall before anyone could catch her snooping around important doors.